


Glowing Amber

by Cicileal



Category: DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Death, Grief/Mourning, Hospitals, M/M, Moving On, Ren loves Aoba, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:22:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cicileal/pseuds/Cicileal
Summary: "Ren is in the window. He can see me through the rain that turns the street into a mirror for the lamps. Through the dark that eats my shadow, and all the monsters that follow. He’s always watching me, behind corners or beds, in shadows. He doesn’t come down and I know I’m safe."Ren is a ghost and wants Aoba to be happy.





	Glowing Amber

I thread my fingers through black strands, leaving light touches against a cold scalp. They’re thin, and hardly show when I hold them in the bleached light. They haven’t grown since I last saw him, brushing the bones of his shoulders and clinging to the pads of my fingers like they belonged to me and never him. 

I bring them close to his lips, so I could watch them sway with his breathing. Their movements were so delicate I had to map the place on my fingers they brushed. I let them fall. 

For a moment I think I see his eyelashes flicker, I keep my focus on them, but nothing happens. 

“Is he here?” The words are routine on my tongue. 

“I don’t know.” A routine response. 

I cast my eyes up to Ren. He hasn’t once drawn his from me. They’re deep and navy, staring through the wires and monitors as though they don’t exist. He isn’t interested in them. He isn’t interested in the boy lying on the bed, he stays because I’m there. 

“Please stop.” My voice is too soft, scratching against my throat, and muffling emotions I can’t find. It would have been different if I had known Sei. I could cry. “Give me a real answer.”

His expression quivers, too subtle for me to make out any emotions. I want to know what he is feeling, but even his words are restrained. 

“He’s like you. But he’s empty.” I look down at Sei. His chest rises in slight movements, just enough for him to breathe on his own, just enough to survive.

I brush the strands, so they sit comfortably behind his ear. 

“We’ll come back tomorrow.” I stand after I say the words, but there’s pressure on my shoulder, and when I look Ren isn’t on the other side of the bed. 

“We’ll be waiting.” It isn’t Ren's voice. 

I turn my head and see a woman. She isn’t smiling and her tone isn’t gentle. She was the one to call me when Sei had been admitted, she scowled when she first saw me. But her eyes are hanging with bags, and I can’t judge her. 

I don’t say a word when I knock her hand away from me, leaving the building and returning home. 

Ren is in the window. He can see me through the rain that turns the street into a mirror for the lamps. Through the dark that eats my shadow, and all the monsters that follow. He’s always watching me, behind corners or beds, in shadows. He doesn’t come down and I know I’m safe. 

“You look like shit.” Koujaku pulls me into his house, covering me with his body so the rain doesn’t soak deeper. 

“It’s rain.” I use a condescending tone, “But you’re delicate, so I guess I can understand your concern.”

He sets me on his couch, bringing his gentle palm to my forehead, to my cheeks. When he touches me, I lean into him, his skin is cold. Relief on my own flushing skin. 

He just looks at me, rubs his thumb over the skin of my forehead. And rises, before disappearing behind his staircase. 

He’s always been gentle with me, in that way, he’s like Ren. But Ren’s gentleness held an intimacy, Koujakus never had. Where Ren’s is subtle touches and comfort, Koujaku’s is protection and destroying threats. 

When he does act like Ren, I savor it. 

He returns with a towel, a change of clothes and a blanket. 

“You want me to strip?” I’m not sure why I say it.

“No,” I watch the skin on his neck flush. “Just. Go to my room then. Or the bathroom.” 

I roll my eyes at him and start by taking off my shoes. I try to keep the water from ruining his floor. But I drip. And his couch is already damp. 

I look up and him and catch his eyes. He twitches, but doesn’t turn away, speaks instead. 

“What are you doing?” He looks hurt when he says it, as though my actions were against him. 

“I was walking.” I shouldn’t deflect, something pricks at me to tell him the truth. “I was at a doctor’s appointment.” 

His eyes harden. He doesn’t like my joke, but he doesn’t say anything. He leaves the silence open for me to say something. I don’t.

“I care about you.” I know.

“I was seeing Ren.” He stiffens. “He’s well.”

The lights of the guest glow yellow, casting a warm hue on the furniture, and casting shadows into the corners. A door frames the silhouettes of cheery blossoms, beautiful in the darkness that hides the rest of the city. It’s still raining, and I can hear the dull hum of it against the wood. 

I change in the guest room, watching my dimmed reflection in the glass. When I stand naked I touch the skin of my collar bones and belly. It’s cold and covered in water beads. Ren stands behind me, tracing me with his amber eyes, their glow reflecting on the surface of the mirror. 

He wants to touch me. Like Koujaku had. 

I turn to him, sit up on the bed and cover myself with blankets. 

“You’re beautiful.” He says and reaches to me, but he stops before his fingers can graze my cheek. Just watches. 

I smile, lie down and sleep. 

I wake before Koujaku but see him once before I leave. 

He’s angry when he sleeps. His face, drawn tight, lips forever scowling. 

I don’t watch him long, it’s far too intimate an action for me to share with a friend. But he is so beautiful. I can’t help but hate his sleep. 

I draw my fingers over his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth. I smooth out his burning skin. He doesn’t wake, and his expression shifts calmed by my hand. Maybe it’s wrong for me to heal him in the way I do, to touch him when he isn’t there to accept it. But I don’t care.

“Is he here,” I ask.

“I don’t know.”

“He’s not like me is he?” I wonder what the words would sound like in Sei’s voice. 

“No.”

I cup Koujaku’s cheek drawing my thumb along the lines of his face, eventually, tracing the edges of his scar. There’s warmth on my knuckles, his hand folded against mine. 

His eyes aren’t open, but a new expression sits on his face. His lips are set with doleful hints at a smile, his eyes create soft lines. His expression doesn’t belong to his sleep. 

His hand is soft, his face is soft, his scar is soft. I bring my hand down. 

His fingers tighten, sliding into the gaps between mine, pressing my palm further into his skin. 

He makes a gasping sad noise, in a voice that isn’t Koujaku’s. 

I turn my hand so our palms touch and pull them away from his face. His hold is strong but he doesn’t struggle. 

I kiss the tips of his fingers, his knuckles, his palms. 

His eyes open. Glowing amber. 

He puts his hand against my cheek. I kiss his wrist, but guilt stops me and I draw away.

“Love.” He says, “I can feel their love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking about making this about Noiz and Aoba but decided on Ren, the whole touching thing is kinda played with in the beach scene, so I decided why not.


End file.
